


Flannel

by Lokisgame



Series: Sweet Nothings [12]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Developing Friendships, Episode: s01e20 Darkness Falls, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: He sounded giddy, like a kid before a school trip, “don’t worry Scully, we’ll find you that boyfriend.”





	1. Chapter 1

Her new, warm jacket hung on a peg by the door and she looked at the selection of clothes littering the bed, wondering how much flannel was too much?  
Mulder could make it sound like camping, but it was work. What was the dress code for a business trip to the forest?   
She found the boots at the bottom of her closet, trying not to think about Jack and the last time she wore them. The denim shirt was an easy choice, along with black turtleneck for layers and black pants for comfort. She picked up a red flannel shirt and chuckled, throwing it on a pile to be packed as backup and added one more pair of jeans, in case some apocalyptic rainfall caught them on site.   
Half an hour later, she was rummaging through the medicine cabinet, searching for some mosquito repellent or at least hydrocortisone ointment, when the phone rang. She just finished talking to her mother, so she picked up without delay.   
“Scully.”   
“Hey, excited?” It was Mulder.   
“Can’t wait to meet bigfoot.” She teased making him chuckle.   
“I booked us a motel and I’ll pick you up around 6:30, is that okay?”   
Sighing, resigned, Scully made a note to self, to find a pharmacy at the airport if possible. “Sure.”   
“Great,” he sounded giddy, like a kid before school trip, “don’t worry Scully, we’ll find you that boyfriend.” She snorted and turned on the faucet.   
“Goodnight Mulder.”   
“‘Night.” He hung up, laughing.   
The tub filled and she stripped.   
Sinking into the hot, fragrant water she thought about Mulder. In a flannel shirt, rolled up sleeves and 2 days worth of stubble sharpening his features, all rugged and manly, and liked the image. Really, really liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

She remembered camping trips with her family, tents, owls and crickets and wood popping in the fire. She felt safe in the darkness then, innocent and confident. Now the power generator was the loudest sound around.  
She kept watch. Mulder slept silent as a mouse, curled on his side, blanket thrown over his legs, boots dangling of the edge of the cot. He looked like a boy, an overgrown child, hugging himself for comfort. He had bad dreams sometimes, but not tonight, despite the threat lurking in the darkness outside, literally. Must be the air, the air takes it out of you.  
The air in the cabin was stale, damp wood and rugged, manly men. She dreamed of a shower. The water pump was powered by the generator and they unhooked everything redundant it to save gas. She imagined lathering her head under a hot spray, steam fogging the mirrors and making it hard to breathe. She didn’t even mind sharing.   
Stealing a glance at Mulder, fast asleep, she recalled how his hair clung to his forehead in the almost constant drizzle of the previous day. How would he look like with rivulets of water running down his cheeks through the two day stubble. Water dripping down his nose, wet eyelashes, would he smile if she’d brush the strands away?  
She indulged in those thoughts sometimes, at home, alone, at night. Perhaps it was dangerous to think of him as that, a man instead of just her partner, but Mulder was a handsome guy and she liked him. There was something about him that spoke to her, determination balanced by vulnerability.  
In the past, she was drawn to men of power, teachers and mentors, but Mulder was her equal. They learned from each other, building their partnership together. He didn’t have power over her, but he had strength. His strength was what drew her to him. Strength to stand by his beliefs, strength to pursue the truth, sometimes to the point of insanity. Strength to stand up to her, but also listen to her opinions without feeling threatened, respecting her side of the argument even if they disagreed, which happened often, if not constantly.  
“Flannel,” he sighed unexpectedly, breaking her train of thought, “soft,” something in the dream tugged at the corner of his mouth.   
“C'mere,” he breathed and buried his face in the pillow, asleep again.   
She had a vague feeling whom he might be calling for and why.

**Author's Note:**

> you've probably seen the photoshoot that inspired this.


End file.
